


Behind unclosed doors.

by DeadDrabble (MisakillDatMonkey)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Guys in Suits, Idiots in Love, Intercrural Sex, Just down the giant hall because Suna is shameless, M/M, POV Suna Rintarou, PWP, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisakillDatMonkey/pseuds/DeadDrabble
Summary: Suna is no heathen. His fancy suit proves it. So do his manners. Manners that led him and Osamu down the giant hall of the privatized but swarming with people fancy venue.Now, it's like Suna said... someone might come. And hopefully, it will be one of the two of them.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 146
Collections: SunaOsa





	Behind unclosed doors.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeathBelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/gifts).



The Osaka's festival hall is a venue far too sumptuous for a bunch of heathens, as EJP Raijin's coach said after the match they lost against the MSBY Black Jackals, so they better act classy and do the team a favor of not embarrassing themselves. His speech hit twice as hard for the sole reason that he arrived to give it while Komori, butt-naked Komori, was chasing Washio around the locker room to whip him with a wet towel while Suna was recording the whole thing.

Their coach had every valid and legitimate reason to be concerned after that. At least when it comes to the rest of the team, Suna thinks.  _ He  _ has been nothing but classy tonight, quietly sipping on his flute of champagne, dressed in a fancy tailored suit he could afford thanks to his last sponsor with a luxury brand of perfume.

Suna is no heathen, no.

“Yer a crazy bastard, you know that?” Osamu gasps when his back collides with the desk running along the wall of the dressing room.

Which isn’t a real dressing room. 

It’s a temporary cloakroom arranged in the middle of a giant passing corridor. 

Suna is no heathen, and Suna isn’t a  _ crazy bastard _ either, but he can understand where his boyfriend is coming from. Not that it prevents him from pushing his thigh further up between Osamu’s legs or anything.

"Did ya even lock the door?" Osamu keeps squirming, a moan ripped out of his mouth when Suna bites on a sensitive patch of skin on the side of his throat. 

"If I locked the door," Suna repeats, going still as he’s sucking a mark in the crook of his neck. "Alright, enlighten me, Osamu."

He pulls back to look at him dead in the eye but his leg stays snug against Osamu's erection. Then Suna gestures vaguely toward their left, past a few racks full of coats who barely hide them from view.

“Are you asking if I locked the door of the entire hall or are you asking if I locked the nonexistent door of that cloakroom?”

“I’m asking if yer outta your mind, Sunarin,” Osamu protests, looking around wildly.

“Wow,” Suna breathes out, clutching a hand over the pristine jacket of his black suit. “Rude.”

But for as fake as the wounded act is, he still steps back a little to give Osamu some room and stops rubbing against his crotch. He's not about to carry on if Osamu really is uncomfortable—

"Where d'ya think you're goin'?" 

Suna is instantly pulled back against his boyfriend’s chest and the abruptness of it makes him trip. His thigh slips between Osamu’s legs again, pressing heavily, but Osamu isn’t the only one to hold back a throaty moan. 

Suna’s tailored suit is fitting only when he’s not sporting a raging boner. 

“Nowhere,” he ends up blurting out, forgetting to be smug about it. 

“You better, ‘cause I’m not goin’ back there like this.”

Osamu sounds as serious as he looks, sneaking a hand between them to loosen his tie, sliding the other behind Suna’s back to make a point.

Suna’s mischievous grin is back. He should have known Osamu was being a little dramatic after the stunt he pulled in his own restaurant in broad daylight just three months ago. But Suna doesn’t need to think about the past to get in a horny mood.

“Okay but what if people come before you even have the chance to get there?” he asks, all sly, hand running down until it slides over the hard bulge in Osamu’s pants, seizing him through the fabric.

Osamu’s breath stutters, Suna is delighted. 

He works Osamu’s fly open, moving his leg upward so it rubs under Osamu’s balls with just the right amount of pressure.

“Rin...”

“Oh so it’s Rin again,” he mocks, nails scratching the skin along Osamu’s happy trail while his eyes flick to their right, making sure the corridor is deserted past the racks surrounding them.

When he can’t hear anything but his boyfriend’s ragged breath, he leans into him, whispering: “So tell me, mmh? What will you do, Osamu?” 

Osamu’s click of tongue isn’t enough to warn Suna about what’s to come. That’s why he can only gasp and freeze when Osamu suddenly forces him to turn around, draping himself over his back. Suna is barely taller and Osamu works out, so there’s nothing weird about this.

However, it’s always a pleasant and shocking surprise when Osamu decides to roughen up Suna a little, to manhandle him a bit because Suna is being a little bitch. 

And if trying to get in Osamu’s pants in the middle of a public hall wasn’t hot enough, Suna thinks he might just have hit the jackpot.

Still, he keeps his mouth shut, marveling as Osamu works on his pants from behind.

The attempt is clumsy but Osamu makes up for it with what Suna thinks is a fair amount of frustration and a slight panic.

It’s too perfect to be true, and Suna isn’t mad when Osamu pushes his pants mid thighs and his hardening cock is finally relieved of the constricting material.

Now that he’s standing there, though, dick hanging between his legs and brushing the hem of his shirt, they have to get on with it and fast. 

He’s about to tease Osamu about being too eager all so suddenly and how — if he had waited a little bit — he could have reached in his coat that must be somewhere around here for the little sample of lube Suna pocketed at the hotel.

But instead Suna goes entirely still a second time, his eyes widening.

He knows that  _ sound, _ has heard it more than once. Somewhere behind Suna, Osamu just spat in his hand. 

“Wh—”

Before he can even ask, Suna is hauled back, a hand clamping around his waist in a bruising grip. His back collides with Osamu’s chest, the air punched out of his lungs, then a pair of warm lips press behind his ear shell.

“I’m not gonna do a fuckin’ thing, Rin. You, though, are gonna wriggle that shameless little ass and get me off,” Osamu whispers.

The words, slurred and hot, go straight to Suna’s dick, a shiver wrecking his back along the way. His mind gets fuzzy for a second, a second Osamu uses to adjust his cock between Suna’s thighs.

“Keep ‘em close.”

Suna doesn’t whimper but isn’t far either as he totally submits. The command is a little foreign to the man who’s used to bossing his lover around in bed, but  _ definitely  _ not unwelcome.

He shuts his legs, not surprised to feel the slight tremor in his own thighs after the surge of sheer desire, and jolts when he feels Osamu’s barely slicked cock catch against the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs.

Suna did hit the jackpot. 

“We’ll be in trouble if someone comes,” he taunts, straining his legs to squeeze Osamu’s dick.

He hears a rewarding curse, then Osamu’s hand disappears from his waist to reappear on the lower part of his abdomen, keeping Suna flush against his chest.

“Oh _ I’m _ gonna come, and  _ you’ll _ be in trouble,” Osamu whispers.

Looking back, Suna should have thought twice. Because as thrilling as this is, once he starts pumping his hips frantically, arching his back enough to reach behind Osamu’s head and grip his hair… Suna is very exposed. His dress shirt rides up, his hard dick slapping against his hip every time Osamu or himself gets carried away and thrusts a little too roughly… it’s definitely not his smartest decision.

And sure, thinking the little clerk who’s handling the dressing room might come back from her break anytime soon is really arousing, but only in theory.

“Give me a hand,” Suna breathes out against Osamu’s cheek a couple of minutes later.

They’re panting in each other’s mouths, failing to kiss properly in that straining position, Suna’s left hand still carded through Osamu’s hair. The right one is clenching over Osamu’s on his abs and has been trying to get him to touch his hard-on for a moment now. Without any success.

“Don’t think I will,” Osamu says before nibbling on Suna’s bottom lip.

Suna’s thighs tighten around him by reflex, making Osamu whine in his mouth.

“Yes, just like that, Rin.”

It’s maddening that Osamu won’t touch him, but when he sounds like that, Suna feels a little desperate. His hole clenches around  _ nothing _ and he bites his own lips until they start stinging. 

It would be reckless — even dangerous — to bend over and ask Osamu to take him raw, but Suna nurtures the little fantasy nonetheless, rolling his hips and grinding against his lover shamelessly. 

“‘gonna make me come,” Osamu suddenly blurts out, forehead bumping between Suna’s shoulder blades and making him bend forward.

“Wait!” 

Suna snaps out of the hazy trance he’s in just in time.

_ You’ll be in trouble,  _ Osamu said.

And Suna realizes just now that although this little scenario is hot enough to get them off in minutes… Osamu can’t cum on the lavish carpet of the fancy festival hall.

“Oh  _ fuck me,” _ Suna curses, painfully aware of the total irony of the situation when he peels himself off Osamu’s chest and swirls around to drop on his knees.

Osamu is half sitting on the edge of the desk behind him and Suna has no qualm pulling him up roughly, already fisting the base of his cock. Osamu looks down, gaze veiled over with lust and Suna finally can smirk again. Maybe Osamu he’s the one who gets to come, but Suna is the one dragging him by the tail in the end.

He doesn’t bask in the accomplishment for long, wrapping his lips around the red and swollen tip standing in his face.

“Rin,” Osamu whines.

It’s the last warning Suna gets before a hand cups the back of his head and Osamu thrusts into his mouth, spurts of come filling his mouth instantly.

Suna doesn’t choke; doesn’t even bat an eye, actually. It’s not the first time that he finishes Osamu like this.  _ But _ it might be the first time he gets Osamu off so satisfyingly and gets a severe case of blue balls himself.

Suna swallows around the girth, swirling his tongue to lap the last bit of come while Osamu tries to get his breath back in check, then reaches down for his own dick.

He’s clearly going to die if it’s not taken care of; a simple brush of his fingers tells him that much. Yet...

_ Bang! _

A door is jerked open somewhere — pretty far in the premises, judging from the lasting echo — but still in the same public space. 

Suna rips himself off Osamu’s dick abruptly, slapping a hand to his mouth to collect the few droplets of saliva and cum that threaten to run down his chin and stain his dress shirt. 

He looks up with wide eyes, expression slowly but surely turning sour… and it gets worse when a disheveled — and totally fucked out — but really proud of himself Miya Osamu looks down on him with a smug grin.

“Ain’t that the door you forgot to lock.”

Suna can only glare daggers at the audacity. Only glare and pick himself up before he gets to fix his clothes in a frenzy.

“Still need a hand?” Osamu asks with a chuckle a few seconds later when Suna hisses while pulling his pants up.

“I need you to shut up,” he snaps.

“‘Kay, then. I’ll shut up near the entrance while I order a cab. Come find me when ya said goodbye to your team,” Osamu drawls, clearly relaxed as he gets himself back in his pants an readjusts his shirt and jacket.

The devil even looks refreshed. It’s unfair. Suna wants to punch him in the throat. With love. Straight for the jugular.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, I’m not as crazy as a certain someone,” Osamu explains, shrugging before passing by Suna. “I’m gonna take care of ya. Back at the hotel. So… just act cool and go say goodbye. Try to avoid my brother, though, ‘cause that little shit is gonna figure you out.”

And with that, he’s gone.

Suna’s heart is  _ racing.  _ Well, he supposes it can’t be helped.

Their coach didn’t say they had to stay the whole evening; they all have a room waiting for them whenever they decide to go back to the hotel. 

It’s too bad Osamu jinxed it and Suna does run into Atsumu when he goes to excuse himself.

Because  _ of course,  _ the bastard knows. 

“Damn, Sunarin, ya lucky bastard. I’ve been trying to get Omi-kun to be a ‘lil touchy-feely at these galas for ages but he’s given me the cold shoulder. Can ya believe?” He says, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

And as  _ gross _ as it is, and Suna makes sure to comment that  _ aloud, _ even that encounter can’t kill his persistent boner.

Osamu definitely is getting punched in the throat for Suna’s trouble. Or just choked. A little… It’s only fair.

Suna awkwardly waddles toward the exit and finds Osamu waiting on the giant steps leading to the hall. His tie is undone and he runs a hand through his already wild hair as he looks up to meet Suna’s eyes. Stunning.

Right. A little choking while he rides Osamu into next week should do the trick.

**Author's Note:**

> A little gift for DeathBelle ♥ who's one of the winner of my last raffle and who was, I quote, thinking about "Sunaosa semi-public sex and one of them is really turned on by the idea of getting caught". Turns out Suna had it in him eheh.
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Deaddrabble)  
> Find me on [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/DeaddrabbleRobin)


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